


On Exhausted Wings

by sinnerscrown



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Heavensward, Pre-Established Relationship, Pre-Stormblood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 12:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14933873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinnerscrown/pseuds/sinnerscrown
Summary: An adventuring job gone wrong sparks doubts in the mind of the Warrior of Light regarding the eventual and unavoidable, and the effect that it will have on the person she loves the most.





	On Exhausted Wings

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back in March after not writing for months, so the quality of writing is terrible; my apologies. Not even sure if this is canon to their story anymore, but I'm publishing this anyways so I can stop staring at and overthinking every little thing about it. Yolo.

Nobody in their right minds would have said that the girl had died quickly.

It had been two days since she had disappeared. They had delved into the ruins in search of her, each one of them hoping that she still lived; instead, they found her body curled up in a ball in the corner – her clothes and skin shredded as if they were tissue paper, bits of cloth and shattered wood scattered all around her. Lesser voidsent still clung to it, digging into her now-cold flesh with long teeth that they bared at Saki as she approached, her shotgun poised to obliterate them with a single pull of the trigger.

“Stop.” The lancer’s armor gleamed in the scant light. “You’ll hit her.”

The Warrior of Light stood down, retracting the heavy firearm to her shoulder, her face not even flickering at the gruesome sight before her.

“Go, shoo.”

The demons scattered in the wake of his lance as it was waved, hissing and snapping as they did so, disappearing into the dark from whence they had come. When they were gone, he propped the weapon against the wall, lowering himself to his knees and pressing two fingers into the side of the girl’s neck. Distant growls sounded in the distance, an ever-present reminder that they were surrounded on all sides, in a completely foreign territory and surrounded by beasts.

The man shook his head, looking over her shoulder; Saki turned to see a blob of white bobbing towards her – all that she could see of Alphinaud was his hair, the rest of his attire covered in a thick layer of dust and grime.

“It’s no good, she’s gone.”

“No way.”

A voice issued itself from behind them, and they both turned to look at the fourth member of the party – he stood, slack-jawed, his face stark white in the dark.

“No, no way.” He barreled between them, reaching out a hand towards his fallen comrade. “Aedwyn. Aedwyn, wake up.”

His eyes were frantic as he kneeled beside the girl’s battered body, his quiet pleas turning to wails as the seconds ticked by, the harrowing scene unfolding before them like a horror story told in dark, secluded taverns in the early hours of the morning.

But she was getting ahead of herself.

The day that they had set out, she had let Alphinaud choose the job.

Autumn had come to Eorzea, it’s cool hands closing around the throat of the realm, lending to the hands of the clock a chill that was steadily ticking towards winter. That day, she had brought the fellow Scion with her, resolving herself to acting irritated by his presence, pretending to be peeved that he was attempting to spend so much time at her side; but instead she had wound up quietly basking in the warm glow of his companionship as he followed her around like a puppy, jabbering on about carbuncles and battle plans – in other words, things she didn’t understand – in an attempt to entertain himself as they wandered through the green-hemmed streets, meandering towards the Adventurer’s guild as the sun began to rise, casting the city in hues of orange.

Standing by the large corkboard in the Carline Canopy where Mother Miounne posted each request for aid – some of them easy and some of them seeming to be exceedingly difficult, even from just their descriptions – Saki had watched as Alphinaud had poured over the lists, giving each one the same amount of attention that he would give to one of his favourite books, his hand on his chin, cogs turning obviously in his head.

Eventually, he had chosen one of the more difficult ones – a rescue mission, one she had known on sight would appeal to his idealistic streak. His eyes had shone as Mother Miounne had explained the specifics of the job to them, introducing them to the client – another adventurer, also young – his mind already formulating a plan even before the others had joined them, his interest only growing as he poured over the details, contemplating every nook and cranny on the weather-beaten, outdated map as Saki looked on, outwardly impassive but inwardly worried, experience and knowledge of the area telling her that the job was going to be much harder than it already seemed.

She had asked him if he was sure. He had attempted to reassure her, his usual outwardly mature shell lulling her into submission.

 _Cutting their teeth_ , he had called it.

She had denied her own fears, told herself that it was fine, that he could handle it; after all, he wasn’t a slouch, not anymore at least; he could handle himself well enough now that she rarely had to worry about him.

It had been a mistake, and after it was all over, she had regretted letting him choose.

The job had hardly been a fool’s errand – both Saki and the lancer that had joined them were experienced adventurers, having seen much worse – but it was also a mad dash down a narrow series of tunnels that wound around each other like a labyrinth, packed from floor to ceiling with traps and voidsent summoned from deep within the complex. With every step they took, they were assaulted from another angle, sometimes from multiple directions at the same time.

The other adventurers fought valiantly, but even so, Saki found herself covering for everyone, expending more ammo than she needed to to make sure nobody got hit. She used the aether bomb – still a prototype – over and over again, running through her supply of crystals until she ran out and the circuits fried, filling the air around them with the smell of burning solder. As they ventured further into the caves they realized that the only way in or out was to dig in and burrow through it, each one of them fighting for their lives at every turn.

In the end, it hadn’t mattered how many of them had experience; they had still been too late.

As the youngest of their party – a gladiator, younger than Alphinaud by an entire year, the leader of the excursion that the girl had joined which had ultimately lead to her demise – had lowered himself down beside the bloody, battered corpse, the only thing that had fallen from his lips was guilt.

“It’s my fault!” He had wailed, digging his metal-encased fingers into the blood-drenched soil. “It was her first mission, I should have watched her closer. This is my fault. This is my fault!”

The rest of them had stood there, staring, unsure of what to say to help as the boy lamented his failure, the words repeating, growing louder with each repetition. Saki glanced at Alphinaud repeatedly out of the corner of her eye, taking in his pale face, his grim expression, the way he was clutching his grimoire so hard that his fingers had gone white, and felt her stomach sink as the relentless howling continued, each one cutting her like a knife she couldn’t cry out against.

There was nothing she could say. Although Alphinaud tried, there was nothing any of them could say. Nothing could fix it, and that knowledge weighed on them, each of them shouldering the weight of a burden too heavy to carry alone but too painful to share.

When it came time to depart, they had to drag the boy back; the twisting shafts of the dungeon filled with monsters again even as they plodded towards the exit, each level taking an eternity to backtrack through as they avoided traps and voidsent that they hadn’t dealt with when they passed the first time, compounded by the fact that they were down one man and carrying a body. Alphinaud’s plan was stretched to the limit, and Saki ran out of bullets for both her rifle and her shotgun – forcing her to engage the rest of the monsters at close range with only her pistol and taking several wounds for it – but when they emerged into the Shroud once more the autumn air was cool on their faces, wrapping around their tired bodies like a soothing balm.

It was late by the time they were able to even begin to return to the small, riverside town that they had gathered at before departing; a whole two days had passed since they had left it, hopeful and determined; there was no determination in them now; their shoulders sat heavy upon their spines, their very bones weary beyond belief – and that was saying nothing of their minds. Alphinaud mended their wounds with an expression that was overwhelmed and yet empty, as if he were feeling everything at once and so he was feeling nothing at all, and when it was done he leaned upon Saki’s shoulder – heavily, and yet barely weighing anything – so thoroughly drained that he couldn’t even pretend like he wasn’t drawing comfort from the contact as the rented carriage rocked over a road that was pitted with tree roots and potholes, so rarely used that it had tumbled into disrepair.

When they finally arrived, the path beyond the gates empty and desolate on account of the late hour, they went their separate ways with a morose waving of hands, the lancer vowing to take care of the young gladiator, who was still muttering about fault and blame, hardly able to stand on his own two feet as the grief washed over him like a wave that kept coming back, threatening to drown him. Saki knew she would never see either of them again, and attempted to put her emotions aside, shutting them away in a box like she always did; but as they settled into bed in the inn room – Alphinaud’s back pressed against her chest, his legs pulled up to his own as he drifted off only moments after laying down – the box kept springing open, the emotions returning to her again and again until she was too tired to fight them, letting them engulf her as she faded off, the soft light of the candle on the bedside table melting into a different canvas. Her dreams were circular, a revolving nightmare – Ascians, Imperials, dragons – but it was better than the alternative.

Two hours passed – Saki groaned pitifully when Alphinaud began to gently shake her, asking in hushed, apologetic tones whether or not she was hungry; desperately asking for five more minutes, just a little longer, she tried to burrow back down into a sleep that was uneasy but sheltering in its familiarity. When he finally managed to rouse her, her stomach felt like it was devouring itself, the sensation painful in its sheer discomfort.

They descended into the attached tavern in silence, neither of them venturing to break it, their shoulders brushing as they stepped through the doorway and into a warm and inviting hall where a table in a deserted corner called to them.

The feeling of wakeful clear-headedness that she had gained from her short nap only lasted ten minutes before it gave way to a vivid but muddled emotional muddiness; as cups of tea and plates of fried pheasant – the only dishes left at that late hour from the day’s meals – were lowered onto the table before them, she stared blankly at nothing as she lifted mouthful after distracted mouthful to her lips, trying to uncover just what about their day was bothering her.

Was it the effort that had been wasted? That seemed like something she would usually be annoyed about, but it didn’t seem to be the case this time. Had it been the girl? Saki knew that she should care, but she found herself firmly resigned to the fact that young adventurers sometimes died. Had it been Alphinaud? Had something–

A vivid image of his expression at the screams of the girl’s friend flashed before her eyes, seeding her heart with creeping, painful thorns.

 _Ah,_ she thought. _So that was it._

Lifting her head, she regarded him with a face that was outwardly impassive – but her eyes were conflicted, the cup of chamomile tea hot in her hands as she watched him pick over his food… and when he noticed her, breaking from his own aimless, unmoving stare to return her gaze, she couldn’t bring herself to remove her eyes.

He regarded her for a moment, sitting stark still, a piece of meat skewered upon his fork, wedged between his teeth – before pointedly breaking eye contact. Closing his eyes, he resumed his chewing, his face bent into a peevish countenance to hide his self-consciousness. She watched him swallow, her anxiety continuing to grow until it felt like it was going to suffocate her.

“Alphinaud, I–“

Saki stopped. She didn’t know why she had spoken, she had no inkling of what she had been trying to say; her thoughts were a wordless drone of apprehension, lending her no steps to climb, no hand-holds to help navigate the conversation she had impulsively started.

Alphinaud was staring at her, waiting for her to continue, his fork halfway between his plate and his mouth, and when she did not, he lowered it slightly, his expression taking on an uneasy cast.

The words came to her slowly, in halting, apneic gasps.

“If I ever d–“

Either he knew her better than she thought, or he had been thinking the same thing – his eyes widened, his eyebrows raising with his surprise and then furrowing in… what? Sadness? Anger? She could never tell. She paused, a lump forming in her throat.

“Saki… no.” Alphinaud said. There was a tiny, barely perceptible waver in his voice, and he shook his head at her, looking up at her between the locks of hair that had fallen over his eyes. “Don’t say it.”

His words were a warning, a plea to not push the issue while that unsavory deal with the dead girl and her comrade was still fresh in their minds. And yet, that was _why_ she had to say it.

Watching him return to his meal, thinking that he had nipped her compulsion in the bud, she almost relented; the thought of saying something that would hurt him made her heart ache. But then the image of the gladiator crying over his friend’s voidsent-chewed corpse returned to her, and she felt her mind grow steely and sharp, her lips forming the words before her thoughts were completely formed.

“ _When_ I die,” His head shot up, his eyes snapping to her face. “you are not allowed to blame yourself, do you hear me? I _forbid_ it.”

The fork clattered against his plate as it was dropped, and the bench he’d been sitting on tipped as he bolted to his feet, just barely keeping its balance as it was shoved backward by the vehemence of his motion. Saki sat still as a stone, watching him, waiting for the entirety of his response; but with both hands planted on the table, lips poised to say something in anger, Alphinaud dropped his chin, his dark eyes hidden behind a thick veil of snow white hair.

“You forbid…”

Saki knew immediately from the raw edge in his voice – bordering almost on laughter – that he had been closer to breaking down than she had realized; she had pushed him too far. She stared, her face an impassive mask that showed none of the myriad emotions she felt at that realization, the cup of hot tea in her hands scorching her palms. The pain did nothing for her; compared to what they were both feeling, the second-hand sorrow that they’d been subjected to today, the ache of knowing that they had been far too late, a little burn was nothing. It was nothing.

“Saki,” Alphinaud said, his voice expressionless. “put that cup down, you’re hurting yourself.”

She didn’t move. She just continued to stare. How was it that they could be about to launch into an argument and yet he somehow still managed to care if she was searing herself with a cup of hot tea?

The sigh that escaped from his lips was weary, and as he put his hands around hers, pushing the cup to the table and slowly prying her fingers off of the ceramic, his eyes were fathomless and sad. He inspected both her palms in turn, and as the electric feeling of healing magic – unneeded healing magic, draining him of his vital essences even further – flowed through her body, doing away with the pain as if it were nothing, she lifted her head.

She wanted to touch him. She wanted so badly to take his face in her hands and kiss him until he stopped looking like he wanted to cry. But when he let go of them, she let them drop to the table instead, her fingernails digging into her own skin.

He simply stood there, staring at her, and she could feel his eyes on her face as she avoided his gaze, still staring at her hands in an attempt to formulate something she could actually say instead of an endless blathering of _I love you, I love you._

“I know...” She said finally, hesitantly. “I know you think that I’m going to live forever.”

She swallowed hard, forcing her eyes to gravitate to his face… to his eyes. Their gazes met; he was listening – that much she could see – but otherwise, he did not respond.

“But that’s not going to happen. If I keep going the way I am, my days are numbered. If I keep rolling the dice like I do, someday it’s going to land on something bad. That’s just reality.”

She cut that line of thought short, leaving the thread dangling with a weighted inference on the end – one that she knew he’d understand, even though he wouldn’t like it.

“Someday,” She continued, leaning forward in her chair. “the strength I have been cursed with won’t be enough. But I can’t stop. I can’t. You know that.”

Slowly, Alphinaud reached backwards for the bench and lowered himself onto it; it was a controlled motion, one that belied the depths of what she knew he had to be feeling – for even though loving her was a bad call, even though she tried to tell him that time and time again, she knew that he did. Saki watched silently as he straightened his back – his posture was always impeccable… at least in public – and reached out for his cup, lifting it to his lips, his eyes closing for a moment before he opened them again. They glimmered – hard, like crystal – his dogged stubbornness rearing its head; it was beautiful and ugly, in equal parts.

“Correct me, if I’m wrong…” He said over the edge of his cup. “but your point is that I should simply give up? That I should accept that you’re going to die at some point and distance myself from you so that _I_ don’t get hurt in the process?”

Saki stared at him, saying nothing.

His cup collided with the table, the contents splashing over the side and saturating his glove.

“What _utter_ tripe.” He ground out.

“Alphi–“

“I don’t accept it.” He said forcefully, shaking his head furiously. “And I never will. _Ever._ ”

Her mouth opened of its own accord – she wanted to interrupt him, to tell him to stop, but nothing came out. She was speechless, fumbling, unable to say anything as the bomb that she had placed in his lap exploded into shrapnel, cutting into them both.

“If _or_ when you die, _of course_ I am going to blame myself, because I’m your _partner_ . You may do a great deal of the fighting, but _I_ am the one who does the thinking and _I’m_ the one that devises the stratagems, so if you _do_ die, more than likely it _will_ be my fault. _That’s just reality._ ”

Saki reached for his hand, but the one that wasn’t wrapped around the cup was balled into a fist atop the table, unreceptive to her attempt to comfort.

“So I’ll just have to fight harder then, won’t I?” His words stabbed into her like a jagged shard of glass. “I’ll work harder, I’ll study more; I’ll devise better plans and I will fight and fight and fight until I’m bloody for you, because no matter how many times you tell me you aren’t, _you are worth it_ . I’m going to fight so that you get the happy ending the likes of which you keep giving everyone else; the happy ending that you _deserve._ ”

The gasp that was ripped through her teeth was quiet, but the tears that suddenly stung her eyes were loud; their corner of the tavern was still empty, the other occupied tables more than halfway across the hall, and yet she felt like every person within its walls was suddenly looking at them. Her head dropped, her hands balled into fists in her lap.

“Alphinaud, don’t do that.” She said softly. “You don’t have to be held responsible for anything that happens to me. You’re more than that.”

There was no response; no witty comeback, no long, impassioned speech. Saki lifted her head, expecting him to be looking at her in anger – but instead, she saw a downcast face, with dark eyes that were wet with tears of frustration.

“Why won’t you just let me love you?” He whispered.

Her body moved on its own – it was not thought, but rather instinct that propelled her. One minute she was sitting, still as a stone, barely breathing… the next, she was standing on the other side of the table, her arms wrapped around his neck, her face pressed into his hair. Alphinaud’s gloved hands rose, wavering in the air on either side of her shoulders as if confused by the seemingly sudden change in emotional temperature; his fingers brushed the arms of her jacket, before grasping and tightening, stretching the fabric against her skin.

“I’m sorry,” Saki whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

His arms silently slipped around her back.

It was all wrong. Everything. Everything she had said. The way she had meant it and the way it had come out of her mouth had been two entirely different things; the words had been twisted, their delivery maladapted, their meaning unrecognizable. She had been worried about him – truly, seriously worried – and instead, it had come out as “you’re not allowed to be sad when I inevitably die a horrible death”; and she hadn’t even noticed until it had escalated beyond repair.

Why?

Why was she like this?

She wasn’t sure what it was – the intensity of her emotions or the exhaustion – but once again, tears welled up in her eyes – this time, from frustration, like his had been; it was no wonder that he was frustrated with her… she was frustrated with herself, angry with herself; so much so that she could hardly bear it. She felt, rather than heard him speak, his voice muffled by her shoulder; at least until he lifted his head and looked at her, his face once again taking on a darkened cast at the sight of the standing moisture in her eyes.

“Stop,” Alphinaud said softly; so softly that Saki was sure that if someone was standing right beside them, they still wouldn’t have heard it. “don’t beat yourself up.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head, nose brushing his cheek with every repeated movement.

“I’m awful.”

Her voice was mutilated by the sadness and the anger, so much so that she could hardly understand herself; and she swallowed down the rest of what she had thought to say, struggling with every muscle in an attempt to stop her face from crumbling. Her hand moved to her throat; her fingertips, although callous and scarred, could still somehow feel every taut muscle, every quivering onze of flesh. She didn’t – couldn’t – resist when he pulled her down onto the bench beside him, even though all it would have taken was the most minuscule of oppositions.

“That’s my girl,” Alphinaud said softly, brushing the tears from her cheeks with his long, delicate fingers. “don’t hurt my girl.”

Despite herself, a chuckle escaped her lips.

“It still sounds so strange when you say it.”

“Does it?”

The sight of his smile caused her to smile herself – a rare notion, even when he was around – but in the blink of an eye, she was crying again.

“Saki…” Alphinaud whispered, redoubling his efforts.

“I swear I don’t usually cry this much.” She said, curling her fingers into his shoulder.

The fabric – still relatively new and yet stretched tightly against his skin – didn’t give an inch. She wondered when Tataru’s clothes had become so ill-fitting on him, but only for a moment, for his voice pulled her back almost as soon as she had departed.

“I know,” He said, pausing for a minute as her tears slowed before wiping the last of them. “I’ve only seen you cry…” He tilted his head. “Hm, this would make it twice, would it not?”

“I…” She stiffened against his hand. “I’m not sure… I follow…”

The little pose he made when he was thinking never got old to her; Saki watched with veiled endearment as he tapped his chin with his finger for a moment, looking down, before his eyes returned to hers. His cheeks went pink, coloring all the way across his face, but he held the eye contact, dropping his hands to the bench as he leaned forward, ducking his head a little.

“It was… uh…”

She knew that he remembered – that much was evident – but he seemed hesitant to elaborate, and she tapped his foot with her own impatiently.

“It was after the vault…” He said finally, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

Ah, so _that_ was why.

The memory came back to her easily; once again she could smell the soft, slightly soapy scent of his hair, feel the velvety, cool weight of his gloved hand atop hers, see their fingers brushing as he had passed the bottle of whiskey back to her – coughing as he exclaimed about how awful it had tasted – as if it were happening again that very moment.

At that time, neither of them had realized the depths of their affections yet – they had never touched each other before, never shared the same bottle or even sat that close; but somehow, that moment when he had sat down beside her and taken her hand was one of her fondest memories – one of the things she looked back on when things got hard. Although being comforted in her grief had definitely helped solidify the memory as important, the tears that had been standing in her eyes were the last thing she saw when she looked back on it now, if she even saw them at all.

“I wasn’t crying, though,” Saki said, puffing out her cheek.

“But you were.”

She huffed.

“If the tears don’t fall, it doesn’t count.”

He blinked at her, eyelashes fluttering.

“Is _that_ what you tell yourself?”

A slight raising of the eyebrow was the only response he got, at least for a minute.

“Y’know,” She said, ending the long silence, her gaze falling to the floor as if it were a leaf in autumn. “I screwed that up too.”

“’Screwed it up?’ How?”

“Before we left for the vault, I said things to him.” She didn’t have to say Haurchefant’s name. It was understood. “He caught me drinking before a fight, and was worried about me… I said something mean and obtuse.” Her brow furrowed. “He just… _smiled._ I didn’t realize what I had done until after he’d…”

She lifted her chin, looking down over the messy table as she trailed off. She still couldn’t say it, even after all this time. He was dead. He had been her friend – at least, as close to being her friend as anyone with the exception of the boy – _man,_ she corrected herself – sitting beside her could get – and now he was dead. It hurt to think about, and she struggled not to think about it too hard, still feeling Alphinaud’s eyes upon her… however, he didn’t respond immediately; she felt his fingers brush hers, then his gloved palm close over the back of her hand, his thumb stroking her skin. The end of her tail curled into a loop, her body responding to his touch on its own, betraying her feelings to the world.

“I screw everything up.” She continued. “Even with you. I didn’t mean to… that last conversation, I mean. It all came out… wrong. It was like I was talking, but the actual meaning wasn’t reaching you.”

“That happens to you often, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.” She looked at him, her eyes drinking the sight in until it felt like her heart was going to burst. His expression was sad but warm, and she could feel the sympathy in his gaze. “So much of what I say to you just comes out…” She turned her head away, biting her lip. “I want to say one thing, but it’s as if…”

When she glanced back at him all she saw was him staring back at her, his eyes softening even further, and she knew he understood.

“Well,” He said, inclining his head. “what did you want to say, then?”

“I– I wanted to say… that I’m–“

They both looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, shifting away from each other out of well-practiced habit. The waitress that had delivered their food to them squinted at them from a yalm away, wringing her hands in the front of her apron.

“What happened here?” She asked, obviously bewildered. “There’s tea all over the table.”

Saki tried to bite her tongue and failed.

“Can you please go away?” She asked sharply.

“Saki.” Alphinaud protested.

“No, I’m serious. Can’t she read the mood?”

The heavyset woman dropped the end of her apron and turned to leave, her expression tight with annoyance.

“My apologies.” She said over her shoulder.

“ _Saki,_ ” Alphinaud said again as she retreated. “she was only doing her job.”

“I don’t care.” She replied curtly, extending her arm towards him.

He had pulled his hand away when they’d been interrupted, but it was still well within reach; her fingers closed around it, but as she held it in both of her own, tracing his knuckles with her battered fingertips, a quiet grumbling sound escaped her lips. She hadn’t expected him to be warm – everyone knew that Alphinaud was always cold to the touch – but the uncommunicating opaqueness of his glove against her hand frustrated her. She wanted to feel his skin on hers, to feel his gelid hand warm against her own, to trace the lines of his palm with her fingers.

His expression changed rapidly, fluttering between emotions as she raised his hand to her mouth, grasping the index finger of the glove with her teeth and pulling it free with a tug that was gentle and yet firm; she watched from the corner of her eye as the flush returned to his cheeks – deeper, this time – his eyes gleaming nearly purple in the warm light from the table lamp. The longitude of his gaze – which rested heavily upon her lips – brought a warmth to her face, a desire to do more than just hold his hand – an urge that she resisted.

They were in public; holding hands was already pushing it.

“I’m… I’m worried about you.” She said, following the trail of their conversation as she began to pull his glove free. “I feel as if the longer you are with me, the more you…”

The feel of his skin against her fingertips caused her to pause heavily, her heart taking off as if it were a race chocobo on its last lap before the finish. The urge she rode was momentarily stronger than her hesitation, and she lifted his hand to her mouth, her own face flushing as she gently kissed his knuckles before lowering both their hands to her lap.

“You’re losing your edges.” She said softly. “You’ve become entrenched in all my problems, and that was… it wasn’t what I wanted. I…”

She paused to swallow.

“I don’t want to burden you like that. You’re meant for greater things than following me around and cleaning up my messes. You’re talented and smart, you’ve got so much going for you. I keep protesting, trying to push you away b– because I…”

She stopped mid-sentence, the words tying themselves into knots in her mouth. She had to force herself to continue, force the rest of it out before it strangled and died without even reached her lips.

“I– I feel like if I allow things to carry on like this, that I’d be squandering your future.”

“Saki,” Alphinaud breathed.

His face was part endearment, part irritation, and she felt his fingers tighten around hers, their shallow grain sliding against her own. Her hands were much rougher than his; they were the rugged wool to his fine cotton.

“My future,” He said, his thumb taking up circles once again, this time on the inside of her palm. “Isn’t any brighter or more important than yours is.”

Saki looked up at him, stared into his determined eyes, shoving down the urge to say something contrary. It wasn’t true; she didn’t believe it – _couldn’t_ believe it – but instead of saying so, she glanced down at his hand gently caressing her skin and simply tried to trust him.

“You are smart too, and just as talented as I, if not more. Your work with corrupted crystals is nothing short of innovative, and your devices have turned the tide of battle again and again. Why you do not see this, I don’t know…”

His hand paused, and she bit down the soft whining sound that came to her lips at the cessation of the comforting movement.

He thought for another minute, his eyes staring down at their hands before flickering up to her face.

“To be connected in such a way…”

Alphinaud’s other hand rose, his graceful fingers grasping and returning a stray hair that had fallen across her cheek to its rightful place.

“It’s only natural, isn’t it? People who care for each other greatly often become intertwined to such a point… Why should we be any different?”

“Alphinaud…”

She inhaled, fighting with her feelings. Damn him and his helplessly romantic heart.

“Besides, it’s my job as your…” His face suddenly flushed. “To be…”

His job… as her… her _boyfriend._ As the omitted words sunk into her, Saki felt her face grow hot, felt her expression become shaky, felt her entire body tremble. They’d been… together – if only in the second-shallowest definition of the word – for a while now, and yet neither of them could say it; always it elicited the same reaction, a mutual display of anxiety that drew stares from all around them as they fumbled over their words. She was glad that they had deemed it necessary to sit in the furthest, far-flung corner of the tavern; it saved them the trouble of having to act composed even though they most certainly weren’t.

Alphinaud ducked his head, his eyes wandering across the floor as he struggled with himself. The tips of his ears were dyed the same shade of rolanberry red as his face, his free hand fidgeting with the buttons on his jacket; Saki could feel his other hand trembling in hers, even through her own shakiness. She stared at him, forcefully taking advantage of a moment where she could observe him without him returning the gaze.

Even now, he was beautiful.

She wanted so badly to make him happy.

And yet, a nugget of distrust and doubt still remained.

It was strange, how attached they were to each other. While Saki had never been in a relationship before herself, she had witnessed them plenty – often between people of a comparable age to them, as well. A normal boy and a normal girl would not be so intense, would not be worrying about each other’s futures… not less than a year into their relationship. They had known each other for nearly two years now and had had plenty of time to get embroiled with each other, but this… it was still so new. She knew that neither of them was “normal”, but was their relationship maladapted? Were they becoming the kind of couple that were so co-dependent that they couldn’t exist without one another?

She didn’t know.

And she was sure she was missing something, but she didn’t know what.

“You’re– I–“

Alphinaud paused, struggling with his voice as it attempted to crack, his eyes glancing off of her and then sliding away again. He swallowed, his adam’s apple – shallow and barely noticeable upon his delicate neck – bobbing slowly.

“It truly is my belief,” He finally said, his voice soft. “That a person has more than one future that they can live simultaneously.”

Saki watched him, her body leaning forward slightly on its own as his eyes returned to her.

“And, I quite honestly believe you’re one of mine.”

Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away. _No, Alphinaud,_ she wanted to say. _That’s not right._ She was struck by the strangeness of her reaction; he was basically professing his love for her, why wasn’t she happy? All she wanted to do was collapse into his arms and cry.

Alphinaud was watching her, his face slowly moving from embarrassed to curious to confused, and Saki found herself leaning into him, every bone in her body weary from the emotional rollercoaster that they had been on since they had found the girl. Her cheek grazed his, softly – his skin feeling more like a feather than a person – and she felt him respond, his hand tightening in hers, his head turning towards her, their noses brushing.

Their lips met.

Tenderly, and for barely a moment – more a caress than a kiss.

It wasn’t enough.

But then again, it was never going to be enough.

“Hey!”

They jerked in surprise at the emergence of the chipper voice, simultaneously knocking their heads together with a thunderclap that resounded long after they had both keeled over, both hissing under their breath.

“The kitchens are closing soon! Do you want anyth– Huh?” The tall, golden-haired Miq’ote paused for nary a millisecond, folding her hands over her chest. “What is with this huge mess?”

Alphinaud and Saki stared at her blankly – still holding their heads – before once again flushing bright red, realizing they’d been caught.

“Are you kids trying to make my job harder?!” The waitress cried, jabbing the air in their direction with her finger in a repeated motion that was not unlike something one would do with a sword.

Saki’s embarrassment disappeared almost immediately as she realized that the other woman didn’t give a crap about what they were doing, only in the mess that they had made in their vehemence; her voice came out sharp as steel, cutting through the air like a knife.

“It was an _accident_.”

“Yeah, and I’m fucking Kan-E-Senna. Pay your damn bill and get ou–“

The bag of gil made a loud, metallic slapping sound as it hit the Miq’ote’s face, tearing a pained cry from her lips and eliciting a surprised gasp from Alphinaud, who lurched forward on the bench, arm outstretched, as the waitress crumpled to the ground, holding her bloodied nose with both hands.

“S-Saki,” He cried. “what did you do _that_ for?”

A vacant stare was the only thing he got in response; that, and a shout from the man behind the counter as the entire tavern realized what had just happened, a myriad of gazes turning in their direction from all over the room.

Bolting to his feet, Alphinaud kneeled before the wounded woman, producing a handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it against her face.

“Here, apply pressure.”

The Miq’ote wordlessly took it from him, pressing it up against her still-bleeding nose with a small gasp of pain.

Saki watched from the bench as he worried over the fallen woman, her foot tapping absentmindedly – with great irritation fuelling every movement. She hadn’t meant to hit her with the gil, that much she was certain of, but the motion between being told to leave and when she had thrown the bag of coins was fuzzy; she had reacted in annoyance – pissed at once again having been interrupted – rather than thought, and there was nothing she could do now other than try to avoid the waves of consequences that was seething towards them.

A small crowd had begun to gather, with adventurers and other patrons alike rising from their chairs and the tavern staff congregating near the bar; it was obvious that they were all waiting for a sign, some kind of reason to act. Saki tsk’d, zipping up her jacket and rising to her feet, retrieving her empty rifle and shotgun from where they sat propped against the table. She slung them both over her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Alphinaud whispered to her. “Do you truly believe you’re going to be able to fight all these people?”

Her right ear lowered, rotating towards him in order to pick up what he was saying; she turned her head and looked down at him, her face a blank mask to which any emotion or motivation could be projected onto, the collar of her jacket hiding her mouth and the tip of her nose.

“Not fight.” She said. “Run.”

Her hand closed around his upper arm, her muscles bunching as she pulled him to his feet; her boots scuffed the floor as she began to sprint, dragging him behind her at a pace that she knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up.

“Saki, wait; we can’t just lea–“

But she didn’t stop; instead, she sped up, her short legs carrying them out of the tavern, away from the crowd and into the night, both the sky and the horizon black as ink in the spaces between the street lamps, not a single star to be seen. As they retreated farther into the town, towards the glowing aura of the aetheryte in the square, she could hear Alphinaud’s breath coming in progressively shorter gasps, the tension on their arms getting progressively tighter as he struggled to keep up.

It was only when they were standing directly in front of the massive chunk of crystallized aether that she slowed, letting go of his hand as he doubled over, gasping for breath.

The aetheryte glowed dimly in the dark, but however dim it was, it was enticing; the light cast shadows and glimmered off the metal fixtures on the banister, a host of tiny sparks shimmering amidst the black. It was… pretty. Her lips twitched; she was still high on the adrenaline from the danger and the mad dash that they had just finished performing.

But then she turned to Alphinaud, and upon seeing the expression upon his face, she sobered immediately.

“Why did you do that?” He asked in between the occasional heaving breath. His eyes were hard, glittering like sapphires in the scant light. “You could have seriously hurt her.”

She stared, once again watching for the rest of his reaction.

“ _Saki,_ ” He ground out, straightening from his hunched over position. He took two steps towards her until they were quite literally face to face, but she didn’t move. “You cannot just do whatever you damn well please!”

His hands were soft against her cheeks, one of his gloves still off, but his grip was firm; he held her face rigidly in place, so much so that she wasn’t sure she could move without hurting him. As if spurred on by her silence, he drew nearer, glaring at her from underneath his furrowed brow, he was almost as tall as her now… almost, but he still had to look up at her a bit, underscoring the effect.

“What do you think that people are going to say when they hear that the Warrior of Light _assaulted_ a woman? In a public place, no less? How is anyone supposed to trust you when you can’t even check your urges?”

“They shouldn’t.” She replied, her voice devoid of emotion. “There is nobody on this planet that is one hundred percent trustworthy.”

Alphinaud paused, blinking, his fingers tightening around her face.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

“I shouldn’t have done it.” She replied. “Obviously. When people interrupt us, I get… irritated. But there’s no suitable excuse for that.”

He stared at her, his expression lukewarm.

“I’ll go apologize in the morning.” She said, dropping her chin. “If she has chirurgeon bills, I’ll pay them then.”

This time, it was her turn to wonder at the sudden change in temperature; the sudden sensation of his lips pressing against hers – firmly this time; not a brush, but a real kiss – startled her, and she had to check the urge to jump, her entire body tightening in stiff response. She did not kiss him back; although her blood was on fire simply from his scent, her face tingling simply from his touch, her fingers curling in attempt to resist putting her arms around him, she was struck by the absurdity of the situation, unable to reciprocate in good conscience.

“Alphinaud,” She whispered as he came up for air, her brows furrowed in confusion. “I thought you were angry, why are you–?”

She searched his face for any sign of an answer, but all she saw was a moderately dark blush and a slightly guilty countenance, barely discernible for want of light. His hands lowered from her face to her shoulders, wavering, as if he didn’t want to give up on touching her quite yet.

“Don’t do it.” He said, dodging the question.

“Why?” She asked. “I thought–“

“The Wood Wailers will just arrest you.” He said. “Besides, there’ll be no bills to pay; her nose wasn’t broken.”

“How do you know?”

A sigh escaped from him, but his lips quirked as if he were fighting a smile.

“Come now, Saki.” He said tipping his head. “You know I have _some_ experience in this.”

“Yes yes, you’re great.” She replied, deadpan. “We all know it.”

A smile blossomed across his face at her mockery, and she took a breath, feeling her chest squeeze painfully in response.

“You really think so?” He asked.

Her face grew hot once more, rendering her unable to respond, and Alphinaud smiled, raising a hand to his mouth, his entire expression one of amusement. His other hand tightened around her shoulder, but only for a moment, because he suddenly held it out, his bare fingers pale and flawless, with nary a single scar or imperfection to be seen.

“Now give me back my glove.” He said.

Slowly, she reached into her back pocket and pulled it out, slapping it into his palm with a pout. The laugh that he responded with was soft, and his free hand moved to her cheek once more, gently brushing her skin.

“Don’t sulk...” He whispered.

Glancing back and forth, she considered for a minute her potential actions; but it only took her a moment to decide that they were alone enough, her hands grasping the collar of his jacket, pulling herself into his arms. Their foreheads brushed, their bangs mingling – two colors on opposite ends of the spectrum; polar opposites that both contrasted and complimented.

She kissed him once, then twice, and he chuckled – suddenly sounding every bit as exhausted as she knew he was – his lips smiling wanly against her mouth. Recognizing this, she too suddenly felt weary, her bones seeming to increase in weight with every second she continued to stand. She pulled him closer again – _one more,_ she thought. _Just one more_ – attempting to bury herself in him, drawing comfort from his touch as he had from hers.

“Come,” He said, pulling away slowly but letting his fingers trail through the ends her hair as he did so. “let’s go home.”

Alphinaud stepped around her, reaching out for the aetheryte, and she turned, watching him with eyes that gave away nothing, wishing only that he hadn’t pulled away so soon.

“Home?” She asked, tilting her head.

He looked back at her over his shoulder, his hand wavering just short of contact with the crystal.

“The Rising Stones. Where else?”

The smile that came to her face – twice in one night, a complete and utter miracle – wasn’t feigned; the memory of her room – once a place of solitude and fathomless loneliness, but now a place where they had slept side by side, cocooned within a bubble of quiet that only existed between the hours of three and five in the early hours of the morning – spurred her heart into an ache that, for once, was more happy than sad.

Nothing had been resolved, she knew that – there was still something wrong about their… _situation_ , something that nibbled at the edge of her conscience, slowly eating away at her. And yet, her desires were betraying her – she had no qualms about “going home” with him; in fact, in this moment it was all she wanted.

“Fine,” She said, pretending to be irritated. “but you’re making the bed.”

His only response was a soft laugh, breathy and warm even though the air was cold.

She took two steps towards him, placing her hand upon the crystal perpendicular to his, their fingers grazing so softly that she could almost convince herself that she had imagined it. They looked at each other – the glittering mist of the now-active aetheryte sparkling in the space between them – grinning in a way that they never did for anyone else, their eyes soft and their expressions conspiratorial.

As the Wood Wailer tasked with detaining them rounded the corner into the square, his body heavy from too much alcohol and too little rest, all that could be seen in the dark was a flash of light, a silent farewell to all that had seen it, beholden to nobody. He shrugged, propping his lance up against a doorframe, perching quietly upon the step.

 _Well,_ he thought. _At least someone somewhere was happy._

 


End file.
